


I Know A Few Chords That Could Make You Miss Me

by 1_800_FRERARD



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: College, M/M, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 14:28:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2776451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_800_FRERARD/pseuds/1_800_FRERARD
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two best friends find themselves separated by 2,900 miles and one long-avoided conversation.</p><p>Or: Mixtapes, jealousy, tattoos, nude modeling, brief phone calls, long phone calls, and lots and lots of crying.</p><p>(A/N: Title inspired by 'Heartbeat In The Brain' by TWIABP&IANLATD)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ripping Off the Band-Aid

Gerard spent most of Frank’s going-away-party on the back steps, chainsmoking...  
  
The party had started with everyone forming a circle in Frank’s parent’s living room. Some people sat on the couches strewn around the room, while others sat on the floor. Chairs were pulled up, people sat on each others laps. Gerard had never seen so many people crammed onto Linda Iero’s couches. He considered calling up the Guinness Book to see if they qualified for anything. Gerard had never seen Frank’s parents together, pretending they didn’t hate each other. They looked so out of place standing side-by-side that Gerard couldn’t help but wonder if he was dreaming.  
It was strange to see everyone who had known and loved Frank Iero over the years all crammed into one room to say their goodbyes. He had a red-eye flight to California where he’d been accepted to music school. It had been decided that Gerard would be driving Frank to the airport, but somehow he was still mad he had to share his best friend’s last hours in Belleville with other people when they could be spending the time alone together.  
Gerard had already gotten a much more private goodbye the night before. The two had stayed up all night drinking and talking, apprehensively making promises to one another they weren’t exactly sure they could keep as they held hands and ignored the movies they’d put on.  
One-by-one everyone shared their fondest memories of Frank. Some of the stories made everyone laugh, while other accounts left the room in complete silence as each individual slowly realized that there would be a Frank-shaped gap in their lives. At least for the next foreseeable four to six years.  
As they all consumed more and more alcohol the memories got more and more personal. Gerard found himself tearing up and needing to step out for some air. It wasn’t until he was alone in the Iero’s back yard that it really hit him:  
Frank Iero was leaving. _He was getting out of Belleville._  
 ** _And he wasn’t taking Gerard with him._**  
As the painful realization washed over Gerard he sucked hard on his cigarette, ignoring the hot tears that rolled down his cheeks.  
  
Frank and Gerard had been friends ever since Frank accidentally punched Gerard in the face in the pit at some punk show their freshman year of high school. Frank had spent the rest of the night apologizing, getting Gerard completely trashed, and stealing Gerard’s smokes. They’d been best friends ever since. Sure, Gerard had wanted to kiss Frank ever since he had shoved Gerard out of that pit screaming ‘oh my god are you okay!?’ but Gerard never told Frank. The right moment hadn’t come up.  
They had actually kissed once when they were drunk at a party, playing truth or dare with a bunch of girls from school who thought Frank was cute. Gerard had never told Frank how much he liked the brief contact of their lips. The timing had never been right…  
Gerard had lots of chances to talk to Frank over their time together. They’d been alone hundreds and hundreds of times. Neither of them went to prom, but had agreed that if they had gone, they would’ve gone together. There was even that one party where they spent the entire night in the kitchen chugging beer and saying they loved each other… but of course they hadn’t meant it like that. Or, Frank didn’t anyway.  
They were just friends who fucking loved each other.  
That had been the night the two had decided they’d run away to New York City together after high school. They had both applied to SVA at the beginning of their senior year.  
Gerard had gotten accepted with flying colors.  
 _Frank hadn’t._  
But Gerard hadn’t been discouraged by that setback. He searched tirelessly for internships in the city that Frank could apply to. He’d called every indie label he could think of to see if they were looking for understudies, paid or unpaid. Even if they had to share a studio apartment, eat ramen, and never go out Gerard wouldn’t have cared as long as he was with Frank.  
Gerard had been so busy trying to figure out how to bring Frank with him to New York that he had completely missed fall registration and couldn’t get any of the classes he wanted until Winter. He hadn’t been upset because it meant they had extra time to figure everything out. He’d promised Frank they’d make it no matter what.  
When Gerard had made that promise neither of them had any idea that Frank’s mom had been sending her son’s transcripts and demo tapes to music colleges all over the country. She’d even sent applications to a few schools in Europe.  
When the acceptance letter came from the small private college in California Gerard couldn’t really be upset. Well, actually, he was so fucking upset it took everything he had not to cry as Frank excitedly showed him the letter.  
Gerard knew it wasn’t right to be upset. Linda Iero just wanted what was best for her son after all. And in the end, that was all Gerard wanted, too...  
He just hadn’t realized that what was best for Frank would end up being thousands and thousands of miles away from Gerard.  
  
So there Gerard was: Chainsmoking and crying in the dark in his best friend’s back yard with no plans, no job, no apartment, and no classes until the holidays were over, left to wonder about the infinite number of ‘what-ifs.’ The lack of structure in his life for the six months that would follow would’ve been welcome if the tradeoff hadn’t been that Frank was going away.  
Gerard had lost count of the number of cigarettes he’d smoked down the filter just like he’d lost count of the tears that escaped from his lids and raced down his cheeks. He swiped his hands over his cheekbones when he heard the back door swing open and then softly close. A figure dropped down beside him on the step. He didn’t look up. Whoever it was had no right to interrupt him in his moment of misery and judge him for his tear-stained face. He sighed and stared dejectedly and his scuffed sneakers, biting his lip to fight off another wave of tears.  
“How’d I know I’d find you out here, Gee?” Frank asked, resting his head on Gerard’s shoulder.  
“Frank?” Gerard croaked. “What are you doing out here?”  
“Same as you probably. Can I bum a smoke?” Frank asked, feeling around in the pocket of Gerard’s hoodie for his pack.  
Gerard let him take the pack without protesting, wondering if it would be the last chance he got to bum Frank a smoke. He wanted to point out that Frank probably didn’t come outside to cry in peace, but he held his tongue.  
“Not even putting up a fight, huh?” Frank observed softly, lighting a cigarette and stuffing the pack back in Gerard’s sweatshirt, “Everything okay?”  
It wasn’t okay. Frank had to know it wasn’t okay.  
“Yeah,” Gerard sighed, “Just bummed you’re really leaving, I guess?”  
“Don’t start.” Frank scolded fondly. He reached over and tilted Gerard’s chin towards him.  
Gerard let Frank see the tear stains but kept his gaze off into the garden, avoiding Frank’s eyes.  
“Gee?” Frank breathed, “Have you been.. crying?”  
“No.” Gerard whispered, swallowing a sob.  
“Yes you have.” Frank said, brushing a thumb over one of Gerard’s clammy cheekbones. “What’s wrong?”  
“I already told you.” Gerard whimpered softly.  
“You were crying about me?” Frank asked incredulously, dragging his smoke.  
“Duh.” Gerard said, smiling in spite of himself, feeling another hot tear roll down his face. Frank caught it and swiped it away.  
“That’s… Don’t cry, Gerard. It’s- We’re gonna- Everything is gonna be fine.” Frank stammered.  
“I know.” Gerard sighed, “I just… It’s so fucking far.”  
“But we talked about this...” Frank cooed, “We’re gonna talk on the phone every day and we’re gonna send shit back and forth in the mail and I’ll be back for Christmas and then there’s spring break and I’m coming back next summer. You won’t even know I’m gone.”  
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Gerard said, feeling his lip quiver.  
Frank flicked the mostly unsmoked cigarette into the darkness. Gerard would have bitched at him for wasting a perfectly good cigarette, but he didn’t. Not tonight. It was hard to be mad at Frank when he was pulling Gerard in for a suffocating hug.  
“Gerard stop crying!” Frank groaned. “You’re gonna make **me** cry.”  
Gerard chuckled softly and let the tears stream freely into the fabric of Frank’s shirt. What started out as a deep breath lead to unsteady breaths, which eventually built into sobs and pretty soon Frank was soon dampening Gerard’s hair with tears of his own.  
Gerard wondered if he should say something then. He wondered if telling Frank how he felt would be enough for Frank to ignore the plane ticket, the packed suitcases, the boxes on their way to California, the classes he’d already enrolled in and paid tuition for, and the dorm room waiting for him almost 3,000 miles away. When Gerard thought about it like that, when he _really_ thought about it, there was nothing he could say to make Frank stay in Belleville long enough to run away with him to New York. Frank’s mind had probably already been made up the moment he hadn’t gotten into SVA.  
When Gerard realized there was nothing he could say he still thought about just lifting his head up and kissing Frank, just to see what he would do, but Gerard dreaded the long, awkward ride to the airport that would likely ensue.  
So they sat like that, hugging and crying in the quiet, warm summer night.  
  
Eventually Linda found them and ushered Frank back inside to say his final goodbyes to party guests who were on their way out for the evening. Gerard busied himself loading up Frank’s suitcases in the trunk of his car.  
After everything was loaded up and he’d snuck a few of his drawings into one of Frank’s suitcases as a goodbye gift, he stood outside on the front steps of Frank’s house and lit another cigarette. He tried not to think about the missed opportunity to slide a love letter into the front of the book in Frank’s backpack. Frank wouldn’t find it until he was already on the plane. Up in the air he wouldn’t be able to call Gerard and yell at him about it. He’d have to wait ‘til his plane landed, 3000 miles away. If he was mad about it, he wouldn’t see Gerard until the holidays, which was plenty of time to cool off. Gerard sighed at the missed opportunity as he sucked on his cigarette. He tried to calculate in his mind if he had enough time to draft something out before they had to leave for the airport.  
He decided against it. Like always, it just wasn’t the right time.  
He stared at the front of the house with it’s old white shingles in need of new paint and the tangled mass of a thorny rose bush in the middle of the front lawn. It was weird to think that he wouldn’t be coming by all the time, not under the usual context.  
Frank had made Gerard promise he’d still stop by to check in on Linda every now and then. It drove Frank crazy to think about his mom all alone in the house. With his dad moved out and Frank going off to college the place would be much quieter than it had ever been before. Linda would have no one to cook for, no one’s laundry to do, no one to watch TV with. To Gerard, it sounded nice to give up all of the extra work, but he knew Linda liked the mom duties.  
He could empathize. He was going to miss his Frank-related duties too.  
Walking the asshole home from parties when he got too drunk and to make curfew, supplying Frank with endless amounts of cigarettes and weed, mostly without complaint, the piggy back rides, sitting and listening to Frank retelling his dreams-  
And just as the skin stretching over Gerard’s cheekbones had started to dry it was dampened again with fresh tears.  
He moved his one-man pity party to the driveway to avoid the party guests exiting the house. The last thing he needed was a lecture on smoking from his mom because someone had seen him chainsmoking on the front steps of the Iero residence.  
  
Eventually Frank came out of the house with Linda in-tow. She hugged him and kissed him, calling over his shoulder to Gerard that he shouldn’t be a stranger and that he was always welcome to come by.  
Before he knew it Gerard was alone in the car with Frank.  
“You sure you got everything?” Gerard asked, glancing over at Frank. He stared out the passenger window, watching his house fade behind them.  
“I’ll never be fucking sure.” Frank sighed, fighting back a yawn. “But if I didn’t get the fuck out of there I wasn’t sure if I’d ever be able to convince myself to leave.”  
“You don’t have to, you know? No one’s making you.” Gerard said, instantly cringing at himself for saying it out loud.  
“Gerard Way, do not.” Frank scolded, laughing bitterly.  
“Sorry. You know that’s my default advice everything.” Gerard amended, looking over at Frank as the car slowed at a red light, “I didn’t really think about the context.”  
“For once it’s actually good advice.” Frank snorted.  
Gerard stayed quiet, moving his gaze back to the traffic light ahead.  
“I’m doing this because I want to.” Frank continued, letting out long, slow breath, “No one’s making me do anything. Thanks for pointing that out.”  
The rest of the drive Gerard couldn’t focus on anything but wondering if it was too late to tell Frank he loved him. It wasn’t the right time to say it, but Gerard didn’t know if there ever would be. Every time he got close to just fucking saying it his mouth would go dry and his heart would start beating unbelievably fast.  
There was a moment where Gerard thought about crashing the car. He wanted to just fucking yank the wheel and drive them into a ditch. Frank wouldn’t leave if he couldn’t catch his plane. If they got hurt in the crash, they’d still be in the hospital together. They’d be in the same fucking U.S. State.  
He knew it was absurd to sabotage Frank’s escape from _Hellville_ after everything. He thought it poetic that he’d rather crash his own car than watch Frank leave without him. He might’ve written it down if he hadn’t been driving.  
They were at the airport sooner than Gerard wanted. He put the car in park in the departures lane, unbuckling his seat belt to lean across the console and pull Frank into a hug.  
“Don’t go.” Gerard moaned.  
Frank hugged back so tightly Gerard couldn’t breathe.  
“Jesus, Gerard I’m not…” Frank said, pausing to stifle a sob. “I’m not fucking _dying_. I’m just going to school for a couple months.”  
“It’s so fucking far Frank.” Gerard whispered, “Who’s gonna walk you home when you get too drunk?”  
“Shut up. Who’s gonna walk _you_ home?” Frank sobbed. He pushed away from Gerard enough to look him the eyes.  
“ _Listen to me motherfucker,_ ” Frank said, “You’re going to have so much fucking fun without me, you won’t even notice I’m gone.”  
Gerard wanted to tell Frank he’d trade all the fun in the world if it meant Frank would stay, but he didn’t. He wanted to tell Frank he loved him so much, always would, but he didn’t.  
They stared at each other in silence and for a moment Gerard thought he might actually have the perfect opportunity to kiss Frank goodbye then. It was now or never. Frank’s eyes darted down to Gerard’s lips, even.  
But as Gerard leaned in someone tapped on the window, scaring them both away from one another. Gerard’s head snapped towards the window. A police officer directing traffic pointed to a sign on the curb, announcing that it was a drop-off only zone, ‘violators will be ticketed’.  
Gerard shoved open his door and helped Frank get his bags to the checking counter. They hugged as the clerk helped someone in front of them.  
“Fuck you for leaving like this.” Gerard whispered.  
“Fuck you for giving me anything to leave behind.” Frank whispered back.  
The police officer glared at Gerard until he was unnerved enough to want to return to his car. He watched as Frank checked his bags and passed through the sliding doors, looking back at Gerard a few times on his way to the security lines.  
  
Frank was like a band-aid and instead of ripping it off, Gerard had peeled it off millimeter by millimeter, letting the adhesive pull out the little hairs on his skin as it went.  
He felt weirdly empty as he drove back towards the highway and headed home. He didn’t bother putting the radio on. He definitely wasn’t going to listen to the mixtape Frank had made him that was still sitting in the CD drive.  
The hollow feeling in his chest stayed there until he was at home, dropping down onto his bed and staring at the ceiling. He glanced over at his alarm clock. Frank’s plane wasn’t scheduled to take off 20 minutes. Gerard wondered what Frank was thinking. If he was plagued with the same hollow feeling or not. If he missed Gerard as much as Gerard already missed him.  
  
Mostly he laid there wondering why the fuck he hadn’t kissed Frank when he’d still had the chance because now he didn’t know if he’d ever have the chance again.


	2. The Saddest, Fullest Rain Cloud Hanging Over Belleville

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: VERY EMO

**“We’ll talk on the phone every day. I promise.”** was perhaps the biggest offense on a long list of lies Frank and Gerard had told each other.  
  
Their first couple of phone conversations had been awkward _at best._  
Frank was across the country making friends and learning all this cool shit about music. Gerard, on the other hand, was stuck in Jersey doing the same old shit he’d always done but with the added fun of trying to avoid thinking about how much he missed the presence of his best friend.  
The strangest thing for Gerard was the time difference. Frank would call Gerard as he was watching the sunset, while back in Jersey it would be pitch black and approaching the witching hour. It was strange to listen to Frank describe the colors of the clouds and the rolling landscapes, when all Gerard could see was flat darkness.  
During those phone calls Gerard said very little because there wasn’t much to say. Frank already knew what Gerard did on a day to day basis. He hadn’t been gone long enough to need to hear about the little things. Gerard needed to clean out his overflowing ashtray and come to think of it, he was running low on whiskey. He needed to go play ‘hey mister’ and replenish his stock. Frank had been by his side on numerous occasions when he’d done it in the past. It wasn’t like Frank needed a play-by-play of Gerard’s pathetic life.  
Unlike Gerard, Frank had lots of things to talk about. He spoke for the majority of their awkward, broken conversations. He recounted parties he had gone to, drugs he’d tried, people he’d met. Gerard wanted to be happy for Frank as he listened to Frank’s excited voice babbling on and on. It made him feel like shit, but as Frank kept talking Gerard couldn’t shake the thought that it should’ve been parties _they_ were going to, drugs _they_ had tried, and people _they_ had met. At SVA. _In New York._  
Those phone conversations all ended the same: Gerard got quiet, saying less and less until he was completely silent. Frank would accuse him of not listening. Gerard would tell Frank he was being a dick, Frank would tell Gerard he was the one being a dick. Frank would sigh dramatically and grumble that Gerard should call him back when he actually wanted to talk and hang up.  
  
The last time they’d talked, the conversation had ended a little _differently..._  
Frank had been going on and on about this guy he’d met. Frank had been introduced to a boy named ‘Gabe’ at some fucking party. Gabe was apparently very funny and very good-looking. Only Frank hadn’t said he was ‘good-looking’, Frank had used the terms ‘hot’, ‘dreamy’, and ‘fuckable.’ As Frank added more and more adjectives to his description of Gabe, Gerard grew increasingly certain he was going to be sick. Frank said he didn’t want a relationship with anyone, but that he still wanted to take Gabe on a date and see where things went. Gerard could’ve sworn he felt his heart cracking in half as he laid on his bed with the phone pressed to his hear, listening to Frank go on and on about where he should take Gabe for their first date. Gerard didn’t know much about first dates but he was sure he never wanted to hear the name ‘Gabe’ again, regardless of the context.  
Gerard tried his best to sound disinterested in hope that Frank would just shut up about it, making sure to add ‘mmhmm’s and ‘oh’s wherever Frank paused. Frank said he wanted to take Gabe to this music store in the city but he was worried he’d do that thing where he started talking about effects pedals and couldn’t stop.  
Gerard found himself increasingly hurt and jealous the more he thought about Frank out on a date with some ‘fuckable’ California boy. The pain and jealousy crescendoed, hitting a point where they were too much to take and so Gerard did the only thing he could think to do… he _hung up_ on Frank.  
Frank had called back a few seconds later saying the call had dropped and jumping right back into how nervous he was to ask this fucking guy out.  
“No. I hung up on you actually.” Gerard had said, interrupting Frank.  
“Oh, well, fuck y-” Frank had started to say. The end of his statement cut off when Gerard hung up again.  
  
Terror immediately washed over Gerard as he realized how obvious he had made his feelings.  
As the agonizing moments ticked by, Gerard stared at his phone, wondering if he should call Frank back and explain himself. There was still time to stop Frank from going on a date with that guy. But if it wasn’t ‘fuckable’ Gabe, there’d be someone else eventually. Trying to stop Frank wouldn’t solve anything. If anyone needed to stop, it was Gerard.  
Gerard had no idea how long he laid there, staring at his phone and freaking the fuck out. His finger hovered over the ‘call’ button as he silently panicked. His mind was a fucking circus of racing thoughts as he wondered what the fuck Frank must have been thinking, 3 hours, and 2,900 miles away. The more he thought about it, he realized Frank would probably just write it off as one of the many things about his new life that Gerard couldn’t be bothered to pay attention to. With that thought came a small breath of relief.  
As Gerard focused on breathing in and out, a crashing realization hit:  
 _Frank was better off without him._  
If Frank had gotten into SVA they would’ve done nothing but hang out in Gerard’s dorm, drinking and smoking and making art, like they always did. Frank would’ve missed out on all the normal college shit Gerard loathed: parties and experimental drugs and… fucking _dates._  
Gerard and his alcohol-induced, horrific drawings were nothing compared to ‘fuckable’ California musician-boys with beautifully refinished vintage guitars and their music stores full of guitar pedals.  
  
It fucking hurt to think about all that and so Gerard made sure to do everything in his power to lose track of reality after that. The weekend flew by in a mess of pills and booze and penciled sketches of chaotic fifty-car-pileups.  
Gerard didn’t stop drawing. Even when Gerard ran out of vodka and narcotics, he didn’t stop dropping. Drawing was his new best friend. Drawing couldn’t move to California and go on dates with people cooler and funnier than Gerard.  
He started on a series of inked in funeral processions consisting of skeletons and women in beautiful mourning gowns. With every new page, Gerard threw a new funeral for everything he’d lost.  
At some point, Gerard started drawing his own funeral over and over. He’d decided that he was more bad than good. The funeral processions snaked through jagged mountain passes, always slowly making their way towards a large, fiery hole in the ground. Ashes floated down from the burning sky. The world was torn apart by flames.  
When he drew the funeral service, Frank wasn’t sitting on the front pew with the rest of the mourners. Frank couldn’t attend Gerard’s funeral from 3,000 miles away. Frank was better off not sitting on a pew in a burning church in some wasteland between Earth and the afterlife.  
Gerard wasn’t sure which version of hell he preferred. At least he had control over the hell in his drawings. The hell his life had become just looked boring and sad, and full of Frank-shaped holes.  
The funeral processions eventually lead to a series of self portraits. Gerard was dressed in a suit, lying in a coffin in all of them. Sometimes he drew his heart on his sleeve as a sort of symbolic punishment for his lack of transparency in his love for Frank, even in death. It certainly felt like a secret that he would take with him to his grave.  
Gerard eventually drafted up plans to build himself a pinebox. He mostly wanted one for drawing reference, but the thought of an actual makeshift coffin in his room made him grin from ear to ear. It was nerdy and dark. Frank would love it.  
He sometimes pictured Frank coming over to the Way house, dressed in all black, with his electric guitar, and his hair straightened and full of product. Frank would lay in the coffin and shred on his guitar while Gerard drew him. He tried to draw Frank like that a few times, laying in the coffin, smothered in black eyeliner, shredding on his guitar. For whatever reason, Gerard couldn’t pull Frank’s face to the forefront of his brain so easily anymore. He kept getting the brows wrong and the jaw always ended up looking a little too square to be Frank’s. Those few tear-stained sketches ended up crumpled at the bottom of Gerard’s waste-basket.  
The only problem with constructing the pinebox was that Gerard needed his dad’s help to use the tools to put it together. He’d been kind of an asshole to his parents since Frank left and he was usually too high to think of a way to ask them for help that wouldn’t result in his parents having him committed…  
 ** _“Hey dad, I’m building myself a coffin. Would you mind helping me with the table saw?”_**  
~  
  
If Gerard’s younger brother, Mikey, didn’t know Gerard’s artistic process so well he might’ve been worried.  
Well, okay, if he was completely honest about it, he was actually kind of worried. Most of the worry revolved around Gerard’s recent increase in drug use. Mikey wasn’t ready to say his brother had a problem, but he was definitely dancing with the possibility.  
Everyone knew Gerard would struggle with Frank moving away. Frank and Gerard had even been talking about it once when Mikey was hanging out with them.  
Mikey didn’t know what he’d do if his best friend, Pete, ever moved away. He imagined he’d be pretty broken up for awhile. But at the same time, Gerard was taking things too far. He was letting the misery consume him. It wasn’t getting easier for Gerard to deal with Frank’s absence. It was getting harder.  
To Mikey, Gerard very closely resembled someone who had recently gotten out of a long relationship that had ended in tragedy. Not that Gerard would know the first thing about long relationships or their endings, but even so Gerard acted as if he had been dumped. That was the easiest way to describe it.  
Frank had sort of dumped Gerard in a way, Mikey thought, even if he hadn’t meant to.  
  
Mikey went down to Gerard’s room often to check on his brother. Gerard either slept all the time or never slept. It was different every week. If Gerard was sleeping, Mikey would tiptoe across the room, trying not to trip over all the weird shit scattered on the floor, and lean over his brother to check his pulse. Gerard’s heart was beating each and every time Mikey checked and he felt just a little stupid for ever doubting his older brother in the first place.  
If Gerard was awake, they’d sit and talk for awhile. Mikey had to be the one to engage Gerard in conversations since he rarely started them himself. Gerard was quiet, dismal and drowning in a cocktail of alcohol and opiates. Mostly he stared off into space and sighed dramatically every five minutes. If Mikey ever brought up Frank, Gerard would ungracefully change the subject as quickly as he could. The strangest things would trigger something in him and all of the sudden he’d be curling up in a ball and crying.  
Sometimes Mikey would sit and watch movies with Gerard and Gerard would cry the entire fucking time. The tears would mix with the ink on his hands when he tried to wipe them away, staining everything he touched with different shades of grey. Gerard was like one of the miserable creatures from his own drawings, which had been getting scarier and scarier, Mikey thought. In Frank’s absence, Gerard had become a piece of his own terrifying art.  
Gerard’s art had progressed and evolved in ways Mikey was always surprised by. Every time he was in Gerard’s room he’d discretely check his brother’s desk, finding pills scattered over pages and pages of new drawings. Gerard’s constantly growing piles of sketches gave Mikey some peace of mind. As long as Gerard kept drawing he’d be okay. If Gerard ever stopped drawing, Mikey didn’t know what he was going to do.  
The drawings never did stop but Gerard seemed to steadily get worse. He was consuming more and more alcohol as his tolerance skyrocketed. Mikey wasn’t sure how Gerard even got the stuff because he left the house less and less often. He never hung out with anyone. When Mikey invited him out Gerard always had an excuse ready. He would say he’d just come up with some new ideas for a comic and wanted to stay home to draft it all out or that he’d stayed up all night and needed to get some sleep. The excuses got increasingly pitiful every time Mikey asked, but what could he do?  
  
It was early on a Monday morning that Mikey had finally exhausted his patience for Gerard’s pity party. He was tired of Gerard moping around like he was the saddest, fullest rain cloud hanging over Belleville.  
He had just finished convincing their mother that Gerard didn’t need to be put on suicide watch for the umpteenth time and was headed for the basement to pull Gerard out of his depression-session, when his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and was surprised to see Frank’s name on the screen.  
“Frank?” Mikey asked after bringing the phone to his ear.  
“Mikey,” Frank said in a hushed voice, “Are you somewhere where you can talk? _Alone?_ ”  
“Uh, yeah. Hold on a sec.” Mikey said, turning for his room instead of going down the stairs to Gerard’s. He took the stairs up to the second floor two at a time, slipped into his room and shut the door quietly behind him.  
“Okay. I’m alone. What’s up?” Mikey asked, trying not to sound desperate and hopeful. Frank had to know what the fuck he was supposed to do about Gerard. He had to. It was practically his job.  
“Have you talked to Gerard recently?” Frank asked softly. The urgency in his voice was unmistakable.  
“Yeah. Kinda hard not to.” Mikey mumbled.  
“Is he… okay?” Frank asked.  
“Define ‘okay’.” Mikey replied. The creepy drawings of hell, the sketched out plans for building a Gerard-sized coffin, the black ink staining everything in Gerard's room all came flooding to his mind. He couldn’t honestly say if Gerard was okay or not.  
“Like is he… Okay?” Frank pressed, “I’m sorry but I don’t know how else to put it. Is he alright? Is he happy?”  
“Ask him yourself.” Mikey snorted.  
“That’s just it. He won’t fucking talk to me.” Frank countered.  
“Oh.” Mikey breathed, realizing that the urgency in Frank’s voice was laced with worry.  
“He’s been avoiding my calls for like, two weeks. I just need to know he’s okay. I’m worried about him.” Frank explained.  
“He’s fine.” Mikey said. “I think he misses you.”  
Frank let out a long slow breath.  
“You know how he is when he’s upset.” Mikey said, trying to console his brother’s friend, “You remember when Elena-”  
“Yeah, I remember.” Frank said, cutting Mikey short which Mikey was thankful for, really, “But Mikey, I didn’t die. She- I’m just… I’m far away.”  
“What’s the difference?” Mikey asked.  
Frank was quiet for a moment then, taking a long shaky breath.  
“Just… have him call me.” Frank said finally.  
“I will.” Mikey said. He suddenly heard footsteps on the stairs, “Look, Frank I gotta go-”  
“Wait!” Frank said, “No. Don’t have him call me. I want him to call me when he wants to. On his own terms. So just… make sure he’s alright. Keep him safe. I’m so fucking worried.”  
“I’ll keep him safe.” Mikey promised.  
“And Mikey? Don’t tell him about this call.” Frank added.  
“I won’t.” Mikey reassured.  
“I’ll talk to you later.” Frank said.  
“Yeah.” Mikey agreed, hanging up.  
  
He trudged down to Gerard’s room urgently, tired of having to convince everyone that Gerard was okay when he wasn’t sure of it himself.  
He pushed the door to Gerard’s room open. It swung open and hit the wall with a loud bang. That was the first thing Mikey recognized as off. Usually there was a sword and a scanner and a mountain of laundry to stop the door from hitting the wall.  
The lights from the hallway cast beams across the dirty carpet. Mikey couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the carpet.  
He crossed the room towards Gerard’s bed. A large mountain of Gerard’s dusty belongings were piled on the bed. It took Mikey a minute to locate his brother in the pile but eventually he found him, heart still beating, fast asleep under his action figures and spent sketchbooks and disorganized excuse for a DVD collection.  
“Out of bed, Gerard.” He said firmly.  
Gerard groaned in response, rolling over and sending a stack of zines skittering across the floor.  
“Gerard!” Mikey repeated, “Up! Now!”  
“What time is it?” Gerard croaked, voice still heavy with sleep.  
“Time for you to get up.” Mikey said flatly.  
Gerard’s mop of black hair lifted off the pillows as he glanced at his alarm clock.  
“It’s not even noon. You better have a good fucking reason for bothering me this early.” His brother growled.  
“I made you coffee.” Mikey said patiently.  
One of Gerard’s pale, ink-stained hands appeared out from under the blankets, making a grabbing motion. A fountain pen fell from the blankets, making a light tapping sound as it hit the carpet.  
“It’s upstairs.” Mikey added gently.  
An unholy growl of an exasperated sigh came from under the covers.  
Mikey gave Gerard another five minutes before he got up and turned on the lights. His brother shrieked, pulling the blankets over his head.  
“Come on, Gerard.” Mikey whined, “You’re taking me to the city today.”  
“You have school.” Gerard muttered darkly, “Get out of my room.”  
“Mom says I can skip if I go with you.” Mikey countered.  
“Fuck that. Go away.” Gerard added.  
Mikey resorted to more desperate measures, pulling the blankets off of his brother’s body and dodging the hand that reached out to smack him.  
Gerard eventually got out of bed after a lot of coaxing, insisting on at least 7 cups of coffee and a shower that dragged on for almost 45 minutes.  
Gerard drove them to the nearest train station so that they could catch a train into the city. Gerard gave Mikey the silent treatment the entire drive, which Mikey took advantage of, picking the radio station they listened to without any lip from his older brother.  
Once on the train they shared earbuds, bickering over bands for a few moments before settling on The Smiths. Mikey was happy to be getting out of Belleville, even if it was just for the day. He liked going to the city with just Gerard. Their mom would always make them stop in a million stores he didn’t care about. Gerard only wanted to go to comic stores and record stores. He usually took Mikey out to eat, too, because he knew it made their mom happy.  
“Why did you wanna go into the city today anyway?” Gerard asked, pausing the music. He looked exhausted if the deep, hollow circles lining his eyes were anything to go by.  
“It was mom’s idea...” Mikey admitted sheepishly.  
“Knew it.” Gerard sighed.  
“She thinks you wanna kill yourself.” Mikey added.  
“She does?” Gerard asked incredulously.  
“Yeah. So does Frank I think.”  
“You talked to Frank?” Gerard said, his voice was so small that Mikey could barely hear him, “What did he say?”  
“You should call him. He’s worried about you.” Mikey said.  
A frown twitched at Gerard’s lips, it took him a moment to fight it back.  
“Why does mom think I need to go into the city?” Gerard asked, obviously in the interest of changing the subject.  
“She thinks we should go check out your school to see if we can find you a part-time job or a club you can join or something.” Mikey explained.  
Gerard had to mull over Mikey’s answer after that. He gazed out the window, watching the marshes give way to the palisades. The train plunged into the darkness of the tunnels.  
“Was there something you wanted to get out of at school today? ” Gerard asked, raising his eyebrow.  
“Algebra test.” Mikey smirked.  
Gerard rolled his tired eyes fondly.  
“And Pete said a new comic store opened a few blocks away from your school.” Mikey added.  
The look on his brother’s face was priceless.  
  
The comic store turned out to be everything Pete promised it would be and more. Mikey spent a while flipping through their ‘new arrivals’ shelf after Gerard practically glued himself a rack featuring published works of SVA students. At least Gerard seemed distracted from himself, Mikey thought with relief.  
Mkey felt like he had looked at every book in the entire store twice by the time Gerard was done. The way he swung his little shopping bag full of new comic books was the most excitement he had seen in his older brother in what felt like a very long time. He decided he might have to convince their mother to let him skip school and go to the city with his Gerard more often.  
“Do you actually wanna kill yourself?” Mikey asked as they stared at the entrance to school’s main building from across the street. The sun was starting to dip behind the buildings, casting an orange glow off of the windows.  
“No.” Gerard decided, after a few moments of careful thought. “Not really. I’m just… sad.”  
“I know. I would be sad, too.” Mikey said, bumping shoulders with his older brother.  
“I just miss Frank, you know? I knew it was gonna suck without him here… but it sucks a lot more than I thought it would.” He said.  
Mikey was shocked to hear his brother admit to that much. Gerard hadn’t said more than 5 words about Frank since he’d left for California.  
They found a part of the school with a student information center that was still open. Mikey wanted to get in and out of as quickly as possible, so he made a beeline for the ‘community’ corkboards like his mother had told him to. He looked over the flyers, most of which were for freelance tutoring work and music lessons. There were a few ads for book clubs and a Star Wars club that he thought Gerard might be able to get into. His attention froze on a flyer for an open call to models for a ‘life drawing’ class. There was a picture of a naked man above the line of pull-off phone-number tabs at the bottom. He pulled off one of the slips and turned to Gerard.  
“Hey Gerard!” He called to his brother.  
Gerard looked up from a stack of pamphlets with his eyes glazed over. He looked like he wanted to leave more than Mikey did. He floated over to the corkboard Mikey had been browsing.  
“You should try for this, it pays well.” Mikey said, handing Gerard the slip he’d torn off and pointing to the flyer with his sweatshirt-covered hand.  
“Mikey!” Gerard laughed, staring at the slip with the phone number. “Oh my god, Mikey, do you have any idea what this is?”  
“No.” he replied, furrowing his brow.  
“This is for nude modeling.” Gerard explained, throwing his head back and laughing again.  
“Oh.” Mikey said, grinning himself.  
“Can you imagine me like actually- _holy shit._ ” Gerard mused, practically choking on his own laughter.  
“Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” Gerard said, once he’d gotten control of himself again.  
Mikey didn’t notice his older brother slip the paper with the phone number on it into his pocket.  
~  
  
Gerard was shocked when one of the drawing professors took him on as a model for their life drawing class. When his mom asked him where he was going he told her he had taken up a job helping one of the drawing professors, intentionally avoiding mentioning that there’d be nudity involved. She seemed happy to see him getting out of the house and he didn’t want to ruin it for her. After that, he couldn’t tell her because he worried she’d think he was hiding something because he hadn’t told her the first time.  
His first time modeling was weird. He’d prepared a repertoire of unsexy thoughts in case his body betrayed him in the middle of his sitting session. Having 50 pairs of eyes on his naked form was unsexy enough, it turned out. The work was easy after that first time. Getting paid to sit around naked for a few hours helped to fund his endlessly increasing alcohol tolerance.  
Somehow, as strange as it was, his new job lead to meeting people. There were a few kids in the drawing classes that he ended up exchanging phone numbers with after a few awkward conversations over cigarette breaks. He never got close enough to anyone to make friends. He’d always turn down their invitations to art openings or parties. He wasn’t ready to replace Frank yet and that’s what it felt like he was doing whenever he talked to people at school. He wondered if it felt like that for Frank, too.  
The acquaintances Gerard had made through modeling had somehow lead to him finding an opening in a shared studio space near school. He found himself spending a lot of his time at the studio, and in the city in general.  
Gerard’s funeral processions followed him into his new studio space, getting longer and longer until they often took up several pages taped together. Sometimes they even wrapped around the room. Some of his works more closely resembled parades, complete with floats and large groups of people in costumes on stilts.  
There were a few times he tried to draw Frank and ended up with parades of boys that all looked sort of like Frank (but weren’t Frank), all celebrating Gerard’s death. It had been so long since Gerard had seen Frank‘s face that he couldn’t remember it clearly. He knew what Frank looked like in a vague sort of way, but he couldn’t pull Frank’s face up in his head anymore. It freaked him out.  
  
After spending a long afternoon in the studio one late autumn day, Gerard went home in home in search of a solution to his Frank’s-face-related problems. He got back to the Way house to find his brother had some friends over. He waved ‘hello’ to the group of teenage boys huddled around the TV with video game controllers in their hands. He turned down the game controller someone tried to hand him and wandered into the kitchen in search of his mother.  
After spending a while helping his mother in the kitchen and generally avoiding his loud, crowded living room, he made her help him dig out the family photo albums. He selected a few albums with pictures from high school and carried them down to the basement. He stopped to take a few too many milligrams of Vicodin before getting out his scissors and sitting on his bed, spreading out the contents of the photo albums.  
He paused a few pages in when he felt his phone buzz. He pulled it out of his pocket, pressing the ‘ignore’ button when he saw Frank’s name on the screen.  
It had been almost a month and a half since he’d spoken to Frank. If anyone asked, he still wasn’t counting the days. His best friend had tried to call him a few times but he had ignored the calls.  
Frank called Mikey more than him. Gerard got small tidbits of Frank’s life through what Mikey told him. Mikey insisted that Gerard stop being stubborn and just call Frank. Whatever they’d been fighting about couldn’t be worth how unhappy they both were, as Mikey had put it. It pleased Gerard to no end to think that Frank could be just as miserable as he was. If Frank was miserable, maybe he’d just fucking come home.  
Gerard got back to work, flipping through pictures of vacations and holidays. Eventually he found what he was looking for: birthdays, camping trips, outings… any and all pictures that included Frank. He pulled the pictures out one-by-one, cutting Frank out of all of them.  
It hurt to reminisce over everything they’d been through together. Gerard welcomed the pain gladly, finding himself increasingly numb to it as the pills kicked in.  
He studied each and every cut-out carefully for a moment or so before sliding them in an envelope.  
He had taken maybe more than a few too many milligrams. He had also made the mistake of pouring himself a glass of rum and coke that was really more rum than it was coke. Before he knew what he was doing he was laying back on the pillows, staring at the fuzzy-looking posters on the ceiling and calling Frank. He felt light and weak as he blinked helplessly at the ceiling, begging it to end the nausea that had suddenly washed over him.  
“Gerard?” Frank breathed.  
“Frankie.” He said softly.  
“Gerard.” Frank repeated.  
“Hi.” Gerard said softly. “How are you?”  
“I’m… I’m okay. What’s- Gerard it’s been so long.” Frank said.  
“I know. I’m… sorry.” Gerard said slowly.  
“You’re... _sorry?_ Oh my god, are you fucking drunk?” Frank asked, letting out a breathy, cruel laugh. “Is that how things are between us now? I don’t hear from you for a month and you only call me when you’re drunk now?”  
“It’s been more than a month.” Gerard said, “It’s been… 42 days, maybe 43? I can’t remember.”  
“You counted?” Frank breathed.  
“'Course I did...” Gerard sighed.  
Gerard listened to his friend breathe in and out deeply. The sound made his chest flutter. Frank didn’t feel so far away when he breathed into the phone like that.  
“What did you drink?” Frank asked conversationally.  
“I’m not really very drunk.” Gerard explained. “Just high.”  
“Well, what’d you take?” Frank asked.  
“Doesn’t matter." Gerard sighed.  
“How _much_ did you take?” Frank asked, worry evident in his voice.  
“Not sure.” Gerard said.  
“Should I… be worried?” Frank asked, “Do you need to go the hospital?”  
“No, it’s not like that. It’s fine.” Gerard said crossly, “I’m fine. I just called because… Frank I… I fucking _miss you_. I miss the sound of your voice. I miss your stupid face. I miss your songs. I miss hanging out.”  
It was like Gerard could feel every fucking mile between them.  
“I miss you, too, Gee.” Frank said, “You have no idea.”  
“I want you to come back.” Gerard begged, trying not to cry. “You need to come back.”  
“I can’t.” Frank sighed. “I want to, but well… you know why I can’t.”  
“I feel sick.” Gerard blurted out, feeling another wave of nausea wash over him. He wondered if any of Mikey’s friends had pot he could smoke to take the edge off the nausea.  
“Gerard, are you okay? Is someone there to help you? What did you take? Just tell me.” Frank said anxiously, one question bolting out after the other.  
“Just stay on the phone with me.” Gerard requested, grabbing one of the pictures of him and Frank off the bed. He clamped the phone between his chin and his shoulder and traced his fingers over the photograph. It was a picture of them together at summer camp. He looked like shit and Frank looked fucking perfect as usual. He slid it into the envelope with the other things he’d cut out.  
“Of course. Anything.” Frank said. “Tell me about your day.”  
“I have a studio space now. In the city. I was working on a project for most of the day.” Gerard mused. “ I was trying to draw you, but it's like... I forgot what you look like. I mean, I know what you look like, but I can't pull your face up in my head and draw it anymore.”  
“I forget what you look like too.” Frank admitted, “Or like, yeah, it’s weird. I don’t know. I can’t pull your face up in my head either.”  
“I hate it.” Gerard confessed, “I tried to draw you and I drew a bunch of boys that look like you, but none of them are you.”  
“My mom said that your mom said you’ve been helping out a professor at your school.” Frank said.  
Gerard had to just stop and laugh for a moment.  
 _“What?”_ Frank asked.  
“Frankie, I’m a nude model. Like, for life drawing classes.” He said, trying (and failing) to come off as nonchalant.  
“No you’re fucking not!” Frank exclaimed. “No fucking way!”  
“It’s true.” Gerard sighed.  
“Gerard, you won’t even take your fucking shirt off around me.” Frank said. “You can’t expect me to believe you get completely naked in front of strangers.”  
“Believe it or don’t.” Gerard said in a sing-song voice.  
“...You’re fucking with me.” Frank argued.  
“I’m not fucking with you.” Gerard countered.  
Frank whispered something under his breath that Gerard didn’t quite catch.  
“I love you.” Gerard said suddenly, his own impulses betraying him, “So much.”  
“I love you, too.” Frank replied casually.  
“No, I mean… Frank, _I love you.”_ Gerard said again, voice desperate and sad.  
“You love everyone right now.” Frank sighed, “You’re probably on fucking Vicodin, aren’t you?”  
“So what if I am?” Gerard replied dreamily.  
“Whatever.” Frank sighed, “Look, I don’t know if now is a good time to tell you, but I didn’t go on a date with Gabe.”  
“Why not?” Gerard asked, trying to feign disinterest.  
“Because I thought you- well like-” Frank stammered, “Gerard, was there a reason you got upset with me the last time we talked? Maybe I have it wrong but it seemed like you-”  
“I just miss you.” Gerard interrupted. “But uh, look, Frank, I have to go.”  
Even in his opiate-induced state he knew better than to get into a conversation like that with Frank. Not when he was fucked up like that.  
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Frank asked. “I’m worried…”  
“I’m fine.” Gerard promised.  
“Okay. Well, call me sometime… when you’re _sober._ ” Frank requested.  
“Anything for you.” Gerard said before dropping the call.  
He checked several times to make sure he’d actually hung up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so emo omg. -m


	3. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> very nsfw tbh.... sorry it's so much porn. omg........
> 
> this was supposed to be a 3 part fic, but i actually... have more to write? surprise! will probably be a 5 part fic? idk. i shouldn't try to guess.

Gerard had regularly drunk-dialed Frank before he moved away. It had been a weekly ritual since the early days of their friendship.  
It started off as this thing that seemed to happen on those nights where Frank was stuck in bed with a cold, too sick to go out and be a normal highschooler. It was like Gerard had a sixth sense for Frank’s immune system and it’s constant desire to quit. Frank would be sitting in bed, feeling totally alone with his insomniatic fevers when all of a sudden his phone would be ringing.  
Finally having someone cool to talk to in the middle of the night wasn’t even the half of it: Gerard always came up with the best ideas for comics when he was drunk. Whenever Gerard called him late at night, all sloshy and incoherent, Frank would clamp the phone between his shoulder and his ear, grab a pen and paper, and listen intently as Gerard slurred out detailed explanations of epic battle-scenes he created in his head. Frank was always pressing him for more details so that he’d have more to work with when he got around to telling Gerard about their conversation the morning after.  
 _“And **then** what happens, Gee?”  
“Are the warships rusted and bloody, or new?”  
“What color was the magic that shot from their hands? **No, don’t fall asleep yet asshole!** Tell me about their wingspans!!”_  
Frank cherished those late night calls almost as much as the calls he’d make the morning after. The ones where Gerard’s voice was dry and cracked and he could barely put sentences together because his head hurt so badly. For someone who drank so much, Gerard was such a helpless, self-pitying baby about being hungover.  
  
It was different when there was 2,900 miles between them. Frank didn’t call the next day to fill Gerard in on their conversation. Gerard might’ve been mad at Frank for that, if he had even remembered drunk-dialing Frank the night before in the first place.  
It came as no surprise that he had no recollection of making any cross-faded calls. He’d woken up in the early morning with a splitting headache and a dry mouth, unsure of why he was laying on top of a thin layer of photographs of his former best friend.  
To that end, it wasn’t like Gerard had a new best friend lined up or anything, but in his mind, he and Frank were still in some kind of stubborn pissing contest where they weren’t calling each other as if it could prove which of them could pretend to care less.  
As Gerard rolled over that morning in a weak attempt to push away his initial waves of nausea, he found his cellphone laying next to his head on the pillow. He tried not to feel too hopeful as he tapped a random button to light up the screen and check for the missed calls he pretended he wasn’t expecting to find. The screen flashed a brief low-battery symbol before it went dark again. The phone was abandoned on his pillow as Gerard crawled out of bed and got ready to head into the city for the day.  
After a few cups of coffee, he gathered up all of the pictures of Frank sprawled across his sheets and stuffed them into an envelope. He carefully slipped the envelope into his bag so that it would eventually make it’s way to his workspace in the city.  
~  
  
It wasn’t until a week later, on the morning of Halloween, that Gerard actually managed to get around to doing something with all of the photos of Frank he’d collected. He took a few pills with one of his studio-mates and set to work taping up the pictures of Frank all around his workspace. It was the ultimate solution to his Frank-Drawing problems: He couldn’t forget Frank’s face if it was everywhere he looked.  
Sure, drowning himself in constant reminders of better times was probably unhealthy in more ways than one, but Gerard would be a liar if he said he didn’t like to suffer a little. Suffering was good for his creative flow. He could handle being a martyr for the sake of Frank Iero, since Frank Iero himself was art.  
  
Gerard could handle being a martyr for the sake of art.  
  
When the envelope of photographs was completely empty, Gerard took a step back and admired his work. He’d made a point to arrange the pictures all over the wall, rather than concentrating them all in one place. He’d tried putting them all together in one space, but it felt a little too much like an altar. Frank wasn’t dead, he was just far away.  
The late-autumn sun shone brightly into the studio, casting a glare on the glossy photos.  
Gerard’s eyes fell on a picture of he and Frank together the previous Halloween. Donna had snapped the picture just before they had gone out for the night.  
 _  
They had both gone as zombies. Gerard had taken a comic approach, covering himself in green facepaint, blood, and guts. He’d gotten carried away with the gore and looked more like a car-accident victim than a reanimated corpse.  
Frank had gone for a more classic **Night of the Living Dead** approach. He put on a suit and covered his face in an eerie layer of sparkling, white powder. He looked like he had literally crawled from the reels of an old black and white film. Gerard found him to be distractingly beautiful the whole night.  
Gerard found Frank distractingly beautiful every other night of the year, but there had been something different that night exactly a year prior. Maybe Frank had just been glowing with the combination of Birthday and Halloween vibes? When he’d emerged from the bathroom in full costume, he took Gerard’s fucking breath away.  
Gerard didn’t remember the parties they went to. He just remembered following Frank around, through jello shots and red plastic cups of beer and poorly rolled joints.  
They’d stumbled home together and passed out in Frank’s bed later that night. Frank’s white makeup, which he’d somehow managed to keep intact through several different parties, had ended up all over Gerard’s clothes.  
Gerard had walked home the following morning glittering in the sun, trying not to smile too smugly at the thought of Frank rubbing his face all over him all night…_  
  
Yes, it was Halloween, which meant it was Frank’s birthday. Gerard reminded himself of that little fact dismally as he pulled out his phone. There were still no calls or texts from Frank. Frank hadn’t bothered to call him since their stupid fucking fight.  
Gerard chewed on his lip as he scrolled through the contacts list until he landed on Frank’s name. He was about to push the ‘call’ button when he remembered that Frank was three hours behind him. It was early afternoon in New York which meant it was just past 10am in California. There was no way Frank was awake. He snapped his phone shut and slid it back into his pocket, promising himself he’d remember to call Frank once it was later in the day on the West coast.  
Gerard ended up taking more pills, which led to spending the afternoon drawing sprawling treeless cemeteries full of dead grass and forgotten, dried bouquets. The desolate landscapes were _in no way_ a metaphor for how **_forgotten_** Gerard felt.  
For all the calls that never came.  
 _For all the plans he’d made to escape New Jersey with Frank’s hand in his..._  
  
Gerard didn’t look up from his work until his hand started to cramp, and his tears had blurred his sketches beyond recognition. He felt emptied out, disoriented and totally exhausted. The sun had sunk below the buildings, leaving nothing but dim, pink reminders of the daylight. Someone had put on music while he had been zoned out. The temperature in the studio had dropped.  
He shivered as he slid on his sweatshirt and pulled out his phone again. There were still no missed calls or new texts. Frank hadn’t fucking bothered.  
He had almost worked up the courage to just fucking call Framl when his studio-mate waltzed into the room, insisting on dragging Gerard to some costume party. He would’ve said ‘no’ if it wasn’t for the offer of more drugs, wrapped into the promise of a good time. So, of course, instead of calling Frank, Gerard took the excuse and began the long, tedious process of applying the makeup for his costume. If the universe was just going to keep handing Gerard reasons to not call Frank, he’d keep taking them.  
His studio-mates had invited their friends over to pre-party. People in full-costume streamed in with booze and glitter and props, pouring cup after cup of some blood-red cocktail.  
Gerard couldn’t say he was happy, but something about being surrounded by people who **were** happy seemed to take the edge off of his sadness. The pills and blood-cocktails probably helped.  
Gerard had decided that he would go out as Eddie from _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. He had spent hours over the past few weeks customizing a biker jacket to look almost identical to the jacket in the film. It was covered in studs and he’d stabbed himself with a needle hundreds of times when he’d sewn the leopard print fabric over the collar.  
One of his studio-mates who’d taken a few classes on special-effects makeup assisted him in creating a gash across his forehead. After pulling his hair back with a comb, he smiled at his reflection in the mirror. Between the glittering head wound, the slicked-back hair, and the leopard print, he almost looked good.  
 _Frank Iero, eat your heart out._  
Gerard followed the parade of costumed strangers out of the studio. Mostly he tried to not think about how it would be his first Halloween without Frank. He tried to not think about what Frank was going to be for Halloween this year or how good he must’ve looked. It turned out, of course, that “not thinking” about things only turned into focusing on them exclusively.  
  
It would be an understatement to say Gerard was in a terrible mood by the time he got to the first party. As he made his way through the room waving to students he recognized from the classes he’d modeled for, all he could think about was how much he wanted a fucking cigarette. He passed a girl in a convincing rendition of the bloodied twins from _The Shining_ as he tried to find a good place to disappear for cigarette.  
  
That was the closest he’d come to smiling all day.  
  
He found a set of stairs leading up to a rooftop fire exit. He quietly snuck up to the stairs, tapping the emergency exit system to make sure it wouldn’t go off.  
  
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who needed to have a long, depressing phone conversation over a cigarette on the roof. A girl in a Minnie Mouse costume was already up there, leaning against a corroding pipe and yelling curses into her phone as she dragged heavily on her cigarette. Her makeup smudged down her face, in dark streaks of tears. She looked incredibly terrifying; whether or not that was her intent was another story. Gerard would have stopped to observe her more closely for future comic-reference if he didn’t already owe someone a long phone call complete with strings of yelling and crying.  
He pulled out his phone and stared at the small battered device for what felt like the zillionth time that day. He pressed the ‘call’ button next to Frank’s name before he could give himself any more reasons not to.  
It rang once and then there was just silence on the other end. He thought for a moment that Frank had intentionally ignored the call, but he pulled the phone away from his face and found that the call seconds were still ticking away. He heard a strange noise coming from the other end and it took him a few seconds to recognize the crunch of electric guitar.  
“Gee?” Frank asked, voice coming out breathy and light, “Are you there?”  
“Yeah, I’m here, Frankie.” Gerard said softly.  
“Lithten to thith.” Frank lisped. His voice sounded muffled by something. .  
“Huh?” Gerard huffed, but suddenly his ear was flooded with the tearing of a guitar.  
It was another few seconds before Gerard realized that Frank was trying to play him something on his guitar over the phone.  
The sound didn’t come through how Frank probably would have wanted. It never did. He always put his phone too close to his amp or something, so it came out fuzzy and distorted. The melodies were lost as they were funneled into Frank’s phone and out of Gerard’s phone’s tiny, shitty speaker. None of that mattered though. Gerard still listened like he had front row tickets to the fucking opera. He found a place to sit on the roof, away from Minnie Mouse, and put his phone on speaker so that the muddled guitar riffs unfolding under Frank’s fingertips some 3,000 miles away flooded the quiet Manhattan rooftop. Gerard lit a cigarette and stared down at his scuffed sneakers as he listened. They were covered in costume glitter and it sparkled in the moonlight. He closed his eyes and imagined Frank next to him... Or even that he was just back in New Jersey, lazily calling Gerard to play him something he’d written instead of just coming over to Gerard’s house to play it.  
Gerard felt like such a pathetic loser when the unlistenable guitar instrumentals made his eyes water. He let the tears fall quietly, not even caring if it blurred the eyeliner and bloodied glitter all over his face. No one was going to get his fucking costume anyways.  
“How did that thound?” Frank lisped when he’d finished playing, voice still muffled.  
“It sounded good.” Gerard said reassuringly, trying to keep his voice from wobbling too much. “It sounded **_really_** good, Frank.”  
“Yeah?” Frank breathed.  
“Yeah.” Gerard said, wiping his wet cheeks even though it wasn’t like Frank could see them.  
There was a pause on Frank’s end. He’d pulled the phone away from his ear to mumble something to someone. Gerard tried to not be jealous of whoever it was. Jealous, of course, just because they were with Frank and he wasn’t.  
Gerard heard the faint click of a lighter and a sharp intake of breath.  
“Tho how are you?” Frank lisped.  
“I’m alright. At some shitty party in the city… How are you?” Gerard asked, taking a drag off his cigarette.  
“I’m good. Jutht at band pfractithe.” Frank said.  
 ** _Pfractithe?_**  
“What the fuck is in your mouth?” Gerard asked, biting back a smile.  
“Oh. Yeah.” Frank laughed, “Pfangs. I dressed up as a vampfire for Halloween.”  
“A _vampfire_ , huh?” Gerard said, trying to mimic Frank’s annunciation.  
“Yeah.” Frank said, “What’re you?”  
“I’m uh… Eddie from uh-”  
“ROCKY HORROR?!” Frank yelled.  
Gerard pulled the phone a few inches away from his ear but he suspected permanent hearing damage.  
“Ow…” Gerard moaned, “Yeah. Rocky Horror.”  
“Gerard! No!” Frank whined, “We were gonna do that together, remember?”  
He must’ve taken the fangs out because his voice sounded clearer.  
“We can still do it together. There will be plenty of years…” Gerard offered, even if he didn’t believe it.  
“But you’ve already done it, now you won’t wanna do it again for like… _so long._ ” Frank groaned.  
“You can probably think of something better anyways.” Gerard sighed, “You always do.”  
“I still can’t believe you did it without me.” Frank moaned, “You asshole. I bet you look so good.”  
“I do.” Gerard laughed. “You’re probably awesome as a vampire though, so shut up.”  
“You’ve already seen me as a vampire though… like, dozens of times.” Frank said, “It’s not fair. I’ll never see you as Eddie… with your hair all slicked back and shit.”  
“I’ll get someone to take a picture.” Gerard promised.  
“It’s not the same.” Frank whined. “Fuck you.”  
“I’m sorry.” Gerard cooed.  
“No you’re not.” Frank argued.  
“You’re right, I’m not.” Gerard teased.  
Frank huffed a loud, dramatic sigh.  
“I fucking miss you, you asshole.” Frank muttered.  
“I miss you.” Gerard agreed.  
“You mean you miss me, _‘too?’_ ” Frank corrected.  
“No, cause if I say, _‘I miss you, too.’_ It makes it sound like I wasn’t already going to tell you I missed you, like, before you said something.” Gerard explained.  
“You’re so weird.” Frank laughed.  
“Well apparently you miss it.” Gerard shrugged.  
Frank buried a sigh in a long, slow drag off his cigarette.  
“So do you remember calling me last week?” Frank asked.  
Gerard felt his heart thud to a grinding halt.  
“What?” He squeaked, “I didn’t-”  
“ ** _~Yeah, you did~_** ” Frank singsonged smugly.  
“Why didn’t you-” Gerard cut himself off. He’d literally been checking his phone’s call logs every day, confirming over and over that Frank hadn’t called him. It was possible, he supposed, that he had failed to look at the outgoing call log…  
“Please tell me we talked about comics.” Gerard gulped.  
“You wish.” Frank laughed.  
“Frank, I blacked out a few times last week.” Gerard huffed, “I’m sorry- I fucking- I don’t remember. What did I even say?” “Nothing too embarrassing.” Frank said, “You were being kinda sweet actually.”  
“No.” Gerard breathed. “Come on, you have to tell me.”  
“You just called me to tell me you missed me.” Frank said, all the teasing evaporating from his voice.  
“Oh.” Gerard said, nervously swiping some of the glitter off of the sleeve of his jacket and watching it dance in the breeze, “Well… I do. But you already know that.”  
“Was still nice to hear, all the same.” Frank sighed, “Oh, you also tried to convince me that you’d taken up a job as a… _model_... of sorts.”  
“That’s true. I did.” Gerard said proudly.  
“Bullshit.” Frank laughed “You said you model, like.... _nude._ Like, for _an art class._ ”  
“I do.” Gerard offered evenly.  
“Are you actually trying to tell me that the kid who won’t take his fucking shirt off around his best friend gets naked in front of an entire fucking classroom full of strangers for money?” Frank asked.  
“Uh. Yeah. That’s what I’m telling you.” Gerard laughed nervously.  
“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Frank sighed.  
“Fucking come home then.” Gerard challenged, feeling the plea in his chest, “I’ll prove it.”  
“Well… Maybe when I-” Frank said, cutting himself off abruptly.  
“When you what?” Gerard pressed, feeling his heart flutter.  
“Nothing, nevermind.” Frank offered quickly.  
“No, _what?_ You don’t get to pull that shit.” Gerard muttered.  
“What’re you gonna do about it?” Frank asked, “Hang up on me? Stop calling me? _Oh wait…_ ”  
“ _Frank-_ ” Gerard started.  
He didn’t have a counter-argument prepared. He hadn’t expected Frank to say something so accusing.  
“I’ve been busy.” Gerard continued, knowing full-well that Frank would see through it.  
“Whatever, Gerard.” Frank muttered flatly.  
Gerard bit down on his lip, not sure whether he wanted to tell Frank he was sorry or that he was still mad at him for leaving.  
“ _Frank,_ ” Gerard groaned, “I don’t wanna fight about this. It’s your fucking birthday.”  
“There’d be nothing to fight about if you’d just tell me what’s going on with you.” Frank said plainly, “What did I even do? Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”  
“I don’t know.” Gerard sighed, “I just didn’t expect this all to suck so much and I just… I miss you.”  
“You sure have a funny way of showing it.” Frank laughed darkly.  
“Fuck you.” Gerard whispered.  
“Well, um, I have to get back to practice.” Frank said dully, “Is there anything else you wanted to say to me before I go?”  
If Gerard’s heart had been thudding before, it was fucking pounding now.  
“I, uh…” Gerard breathed.  
“Like, y’know, _‘Happy Birthday’_ or something?” Frank pressed.  
“Oh. Right.” Gerard exhaled. That had been why he’d called in the first place after all.  
“Happy Birthday, Frank.” he added, as triumphantly as possible.  
“Thanks, Gerard.” Frank said, dropping the sarcasm.  
“You’re welcome.” he offered dumbly.  
“Remind me to punch you in the face when I come home for Christmas.” Frank laughed.  
“Yeah, okay, I will.” Gerard promised.  
“And maybe, I dunno, fucking call me once in awhile?”  
“You got it.”  
“Well, good night, Eddie, you fucking asshole.” Frank laughed.  
“Goodnight, my bloodsucking prince.” Gerard singsonged.  
And just like that, Frank hung up.  
~  
  
It was Frank who drunk-dialed Gerard the following week…  
  
Gerard had been alone in his room, laying on the floor, staring at the ceiling, and listening to records, when his phone rang.  
“Gerard.” Frank sniffled into the phone.  
“Hey Frankie,” He said cheerily, feeling guilty for not having called Frank at all that week.  
“Gerard, what the fuck?” Frank slurred. He voice sounded wrecked and strained, like he’d been yelling or crying or both.  
“Uh, is everything okay?” Gerard asked nervously.  
“No!” Frank yelled, “No, it’s fucking not.”  
“Frank, what’s wrong?” Gerard asked evenly, trying to make his voice sound calm and soothing.  
Whatever Frank said, was completely unintelligible at the volume and drunken speed in which it was delivered.  
“Say that again?” Gerard said slowly.  
“Why did you take all my pictures down?” Frank sobbed, “What the fuck did I **_do_** , Gerard? I mean, I know I left but… _I don’t know what the fuck you want._ ”  
“What are you talking about?” Gerard asked.  
“Mikey said you took all my pictures down.” Frank repeated in his slurred, grovely intonation, “Why? Just… fucking talk to me about this. Why are you so mad at me?”  
Gerard hadn’t thought anyone would care if he took all the pictures of Frank in the Way household. He thought he was the only one who ever looked at them anyways. He quickly realized how that action must’ve looked to someone who didn’t know he was putting them up in his workspace at the art studio in the city. It probably looked like he was trying to cut Frank out of everyone’s mind. He’d even taken down the pictures of Frank in his room… **_Oh god._**  
“Frankie…” Gerard sighed. “I didn’t-”  
“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t.” Frank interrupted, choking on a sob. “Just… help me fucking… understand. How do we fix this? You’re my best fucking friend. I don’t wanna fight with you anymore.”  
Gerard wanted to ask Frank how drunk he was, but he thought it might only upset him more.  
“Frank,” Gerard started, hoping that addressing Frank by his name might help to calm him down, “Okay. I took your pictures but it wasn’t because I’m mad at you.”  
“Fuck, you’re probably not even going to remember this.” Gerard muttered to himself.  
 _“Go on.”_ Frank sniffled.  
“I took them down for an art project.” Gerard explained, “We’ve talked about this before. I was having a hard time remembering your face, so I took some of your pictures, y’know, for reference.”  
“Why do you want to forget me?” Frank asked crossly.  
Clearly taking an honest, transparent route wasn’t going to get Gerard anywhere. Frank was too drunk for that.  
“I couldn’t forget you if I tried.” Gerard countered.  
“Why are you so mad at me?” Frank continued.  
“I’m not _mad_ at you, Frank.” Gerard offered, “I’m just freaked out because I miss you and I don’t know what to do. Talking to you on the phone just reminds me of how far away you are.”  
Gerard lifted himself off the floor and collapsed on his bed, contorting himself uncomfortably when a Starwars figurine dug into his lower back. He removed the toy, tossing it across the room absentmindedly, and continued to listen to Frank’s quiet sobbing.  
“I miss you.” Frank said.  
“I miss you.” Gerard echoed.  
“Why do you hate me?” He asked.  
“ **I. Don’t. Hate. You. Frank.** ” Gerard said, carefully annunciating each word.  
“You do.” Frank argued.”  
“I don’t. Now, tell me about your day.” Gerard sighed, hoping to try and redirect the conversation. He’d talked Frank out of his drunken self-pitying before, like that one time when Frank’s family dog had been run over and killed by a distracted taxi driver. He’d just never attempted it from so far away.  
“I went to the studio to help my friend record some guitar tracks and then I talked to Mikey on the phone… and then I… got drunk with my friend from songwriting… and then… I don’t remember. I called you because I needed to know why you hate me.”  
Gerard was almost grateful that Frank wasn’t there because it meant he couldn’t see Gerard roll his eyes.  
“Why were you on the phone with Mikey?” Gerard asked.  
“I wanted to know how you were doing… since you never answer your phone. I just needed to know you were okay… but I guess you hate me.” Frank said matter-of-factly.  
According to Gerard’s phone, he spent two and a half hours trying to talk Frank out of his alcohol-induced bad mood, but it felt like two and a half years. Eventually, Frank fell asleep. Gerard could hear him breathing softly, long after he’d stopped responding to Gerard.  
If Gerard had been there with him, he would’ve gotten Frank a glass of water and stayed with him, maybe pet his hair to keep him comfortable. He hated being so far away. He hated not knowing if Frank was okay.  
He stayed up the rest of the night wondering if Frank got as anxious when Gerard drunk dialed him.  
~  
  
Gerard found himself unable to come through on his promises to call Frank more, as much as he wanted to. Frank had called him the day after his drunk-dial and they’d talked for a few minutes before Gerard’s phone died. He’d called Frank back once the damn thing was charged enough, but Frank had just made some excuse about band practice.  
  
It was the last Friday before the school offered a break for Thanksgiving. Gerard was sitting on a stool at the front of the classroom with a large mirror to his right. He was a little chilly, despite the professor’s attempts to keep the room at a higher-than-comfortable temperature. There was a space-heater creaking away on the floor to his left, making up for what the school’s boiler lacked.  
He was keeping himself distracted from the chills by thinking about what he was going to say to Frank when he called him later. Which, Gerard had promised himself, he was absolutely going to do.  
In the past, they’d never spent the celebration of Native American genocide together. Frank usually went to his Dad’s house down in South Jersey for the late November holiday. He still wondered what Frank would be doing all alone in California. His school probably offered a break as well. He pictured Frank alone in his dorm room with his guitar and a joint, noodling in the quiet of the empty building.  
  
Gerard twitched when he heard the door at the back of the room creak open. He’d gotten pretty good at not moving, even when his brain wanted him to. It was like a switch he flipped in his brain. He could probably hold perfectly still if the lecture hall around him was on fire.  
“Gerard!” someone yelled from the back of the room.  
Gerard couldn’t stop himself from snapping his neck in the direction of the voice. A student cursed in protest under their breath at his movement.  
He thought for a moment he might be hallucinating. Unless his eye deceived him, Frank was standing at the back of the room, staring him down with a smug smirk on his face.  
“Frank? What _the fuck_ are you doing here?” Gerard asked. His voice crackled from the long period of disuse. He could feel himself blushing like crazy. He made a motion to cover himself, granting him another groan from one of the students. He glanced out at the class, most of which had turned their heads towards the back of the room.  
“I’m sorry sir, but this is a private lecture. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” the professor said, shoving Frank towards the door.  
“Gerard doesn’t care. We go _way back._ ” Frank protested, hesitantly backing towards the door.  
Gerard couldn’t honestly believe he was seeing what he was seeing. He was so full of conflicting emotions. First was immense anger: He couldn’t believe Frank would just walk in on him completely _naked_ like that. With that, came embarrassment. They’d always been close but they’d never been, _well..._ On top of that was this euphoria because Frank wasn’t in California at all… he was in New York. He was home.  
“I’m sorry sir, rules are rules.” the professor continued, “You haven’t been authorized to sit in on this class.”  
“Whatever lady.” Frank grumbled as she tried to shove him out the classroom door.  
“Gerard!” He called across the room, “I’ll wait for you outside!”  
The professor managed to slam the door on Frank and lock it behind her.  
The room was silent for a moment. Everyone held their breath, waiting to see what the professor would do. She just looked out at her class thoughtfully for a few moments.  
Gerard tried his best to return to the position he’d been sitting in, but he knew it probably wasn’t completely the same.  
“I’m so sorry for the interruption, everyone.” the professor eventually said to the class, “I sense the artistic environment has been… muddled? Should we cut out early on account of the holiday?”  
Without further negotiation, the room began to buzz with the sound of the class packing up their art supplies, slipping pencils and erasers into pouches, flipping their sketchpads closed.  
“I’m sorry everyone.” Gerard offered nervously to the classroom over the din. The group looked mostly grateful for the early release. A few students smiled at him sympathetically.  
  
The professor apologized to Gerard after the students had all filed out, explaining that she typically locked the door so that such interruptions could not occur. Gerard offered apologies of his own in return for his friend’s behavior and ducked into her office to slide back into his clothes.  
Above any anger, or embarrassment, or excitement, Gerard mostly felt nervous. He hadn’t been expecting to see Frank for another month. He didn’t know what the fuck he was going to say. In his mind he’d imagined there’d be a few more phone conversations before they saw each other again. There’d be time for him to figure out how he was going to explain his cloudy behavior towards Frank. And now there was this added layer of weirdness because the guy had decided it would be a good idea to just _waltz_ into his modeling session in a life drawing class.  
  
He shouldered his way out of the classroom, looking up and down the hall for Frank. He didn’t see the little punk anywhere. There was a brief moment where he worried that security had gotten ahold of Frank.  
Gerard headed down the long hallway, towards the building’s exit, wondering more and more if his pathetic brain had hallucinated the entire incident. He pulled Frank’s name up in his phone, just in case, as he apprehensively made his way towards the double doors.  
  
Frank was waiting for him outside the building, with a cigarette dangling from his lips and his stupid aviator sunglasses on. As soon as he saw Gerard, Frank charged after him and tackled him in a welcoming hug. Gerard’s breath caught in his throat for several different reasons.  
“Fuck, I missed you.” Frank whispered, hugging Gerard tighter, squeezing the rest of the air out of him.  
If this was all some cruel hallucination, Gerard was so fucking done.  
“I- _you have no fucking idea._ ” Gerard stammered feeling like he was going to cry.  
He had no idea how long they stood like that. The cigarette Frank had precariously clasped between his fingers went out. The few tears that had escaped Gerard’s eyes dried on his cheeks.  
“How fucking dare you just show up like that.” Gerard scolded eventually, when he trusted his voice to not waver on him.  
“I just wanted to surprise you.” Frank whined, pulling away enough to look at Gerard, “I didn’t get you in trouble, did I?”  
“No!” Gerard offered quickly, “No. The professor actually seemed kind of stoked to let the class out early… God, why didn’t you fucking tell me you were coming?”  
“I wanted to surprise you.” Frank offered defensively, “Besides, it was kind of a last minute thing.”  
“You could’ve surprised me at home, you know?” Gerard said, pulling away from Frank and starting to walk towards the train.  
“This was way more fun.” Frank said smugly, following alongside Gerard.  
“Remind me to punch you when you come home for Christmas.” Gerard mocked.  
“Hey now, don’t be like that.” Frank cooed, bumping against Gerard playfully.  
“I’ll get my revenge,” Gerard sighed, “Anyways, how long do I have you for? Do you wanna see my art studio?”  
“Please take me to the Way house.” Frank begged. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed your basement.”  
Gerard was a little sour that Frank didn’t want to see his art studio, but grateful all the same. It saved him the misery of having to explain the shrine-like arrangement in his workspace.  
Frank chatted excitedly the entire train ride. It was almost like he never left, which weirded Gerard out immensely. They talked about horror movies and music and stupid things they remembered from high school.  
Frank didn’t talk much about California, and Gerard didn’t ask. They kept everything light and impersonal.  
As the train dragged along towards Belleville, Gerard felt this strange build of tension between them. Frank mostly stared out the window, commenting on how much he’d missed the dreary, industrial little towns on the outskirts of the city. Every time their eyes met, Gerard felt a little pang of something in his chest. He thought it was just something he was making up in his head, but every time it happened, things felt more and more tense.  
When they got off the train, Gerard drove them from the station to the Way house. Frank spent the entire drive fawning over all the CD’s they’d listened to together in high school. It almost hurt to watch. He kept pointing out that nothing in Belleville had changed, not even the fucking CDs in Gerard’s car, and for some reason, it pissed Gerard off. Gerard thought plenty of things had changed, starting with Gerard. He wasn’t the same nerd he’d been in high school. He had an art studio, and weird art school friends with their own set of drug hookups and parties…  
The Way house was empty when they arrived. It was a Friday, so Mikey was probably off with his friends, and his parents usually worked late.  
“It’s too quiet.” Frank commented as he followed Gerard down the stairs into the basement.  
“We can put some music on or something.” Gerard offered, not sure why he suddenly felt so nervous to be completely alone with the guy who’d technically been his best friend years. Every second he was praying Frank wouldn’t bring up the lack of conversation between them while he’d been away. He wasn’t sure if he wanted them to get the conversation over with, or never have it at all.  
The second Gerard closed the basement door behind him, he turned towards Frank to find that he was undoing his belt.  
“What the fuck are you doing?” Gerard breathed, not sure if he could even trust his eyes anymore after all they’d witnessed.  
“Well…” Frank said, getting the belt clasp undone and starting on the button on his jeans, “I made things awkward earlier. So like, the way I see it, the only way to make things _un-awkward_ again is if you see me naked, too.”  
“Frank, you don’t have to-” Gerard’s words were cut off as Frank pulled his shirt up over his head. The first thing that Gerard noticed was the ink. Tattoos littered Frank’s skin all over. He had one at the crease of his arm, another circling his wrist, another over his hips...  
Gerard reached out a hand and experimentally grazed his fingers over the piece on Frank’s inner arm.  
“When did you…?” Gerard asked.  
“My buddy back at school has a gun. I let him practice on me.” Frank said softly, glancing down at the dark expanse of skin, “They’ve nicknamed me ‘guinea pig.’”  
“Frank,” Gerard gasped, “These are…”  
“You like em?” Frank asked.  
Gerard just nodded dumbly. Frank laughed breathily at his best friend’s lack of words.  
Gerard’s eyes dropped to the waist of Frank’s jeans, which hung open and loose around Frank’s hips. His boxers had skulls on them and for some reason Gerard couldn’t stop staring. He knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t fucking stop himself.  
All of a sudden Frank was leaning into him and pressing his lips against Gerard’s. Gerard was sure he was imagining things. The entire afternoon had to be some depressing hallucination, fabricated by Gerard’s psycho brain.  
“What the fuck?” Gerard asked against Frank’s lips, trying to push him off.  
“There’s no fucking way I read this wrong.” Frank breathed, sliding his tongue along Gerard’s bottom lip, “I know you like me, too. It’s why you’ve been acting so weird, isn’t it?”  
Frank’s voice sounded like pure seduction. It made Gerard’s head spin.  
“I mean, of course I like you. I fucking-” Gerard stopped himself from admitting more than he could take back, “But Frank, I’m not just some fucking _convenience_ … I don’t wanna just like, hook up with you whenever you decide to come home.”  
“That’s not what this is.” Frank protested, sliding his fingers under the hem of Gerard’s sweatshirt, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted this?”  
“Even if that’s true,” Gerard said, grabbing Frank’s wrist to stop him from making any progress on the sweatshirt, “Shouldn’t we like, I don’t know, talk about this or something?”  
“No time.” Frank breathed, leaning in and pressing his lips against Gerard’s again.  
Gerard gave up on trying to rationalize with Frank and kissed him back, tangling his fingers in Frank’s hair and parting his lips. Frank pressed him against the door and shoved his tongue in Gerard’s mouth, grinding up against him like it was going out of style.  
Gerard felt around for the door’s handle and fumbled with the lock. The lock wasn’t complicated enough to keep curious little brothers out, they both knew that well by now. It was, however, enough to slow down anyone who might be trying to get into Gerard’s room. The door could be unlocked from the other side with a dime, or a strong fingernail, but it made a telltale rattling sound that had always given them enough time to hide whatever trouble they were getting into in the past.  
If Gerard had any idea he’d have Frank alone and all over him he might’ve cleaned his room a little. Or at least made sure there was a clear path from his door to the bed. He almost tripped and pulled Frank down with him in their attempt to get to the bed. The same fucking Starwars figurine dug into his back as Frank pushed him down onto the bed. He’d sworn he’d thrown the damn thing in the closet so it couldn’t surprise him anymore.  
“Ow, fuck.” He hissed, reaching behind him to pull the cursed toy out. He shoved it off the bed and pulled Frank on top of him. He fought back a moan as Frank straddled his hips.  
“What the fuck was that?” Frank giggled against his neck, planting kisses all over his skin.  
“You don’t wanna know.” Gerard muttered.  
Frank’s lips were on his again. Gerard was surprised by how natural it all felt. It was a little awkward, sure, but he’d always imagined it to be more uncomfortable, more rushed and impersonal. Frank’s body fit against his so perfectly. Their mouths fit together like they were fucking made for the sole purpose of fitting together.  
“Wait, Frank, no. We need to talk about this.” Gerard panted, turning his head to slide his lips away.  
“What’s there to talk about?” Frank asked, leaning back to start on the button on Gerard’s jeans.  
“Well, like, what the fuck?” Gerard asked helplessly as he watched Frank unzip his fly. “Since when do you think about me like this? And what if you change your mind? What if I suck at this and-?”  
“Gerard, you’re over-thinking things...” Frank said, grabbing Gerard’s hand and sliding it over his heart, “Do you feel this?”  
Gerard could feel Frank’s heart beating like crazy. He was sure his was beating just as frantically.  
“Uh. Yeah. I do.” Gerard offered dumbly.  
“You’ve always done this to me...” Frank said softly, “It’s not just going to go away. I’ve tried...”  
“Your heart rate picks up when you’re… _y’know_ … everyone knows that.” Gerard argued.  
Frank just shook his head and let out a long, slow sigh.  
“I’m **_trying_** to be romantic, here. What do you need from me? A fucking _ring_?” Frank asked.  
“Well, _**no.**_ ” Gerard countered, feeling his face get hot. Well, maybe someday he wanted a ring. He couldn’t say he hadn’t thought about it, but Frank didn’t need to know about that.  
“What, then?” Frank asked, “What do I have to do to get you to make out with me? If I make you any promises right now, you won’t believe them anyways. You’re still mad at me. I can fucking tell.”  
Gerard just stared up at his best friend with a hopeless look. He couldn’t ignore the way his body was responding to Frank’s advances, but the situation just wasn’t sitting right in his stomach.  
“We don’t have much time.” Frank said gently, “I’m not trying to pressure you here. I just don’t know when we’ll get another chance to be alone like this… I don’t want you to regret how we spend this afternoon. So just… tell me what you want? If you want me to stop, I’ll stop.”  
Frank stared down at him with a curious, encouraging look.  
“I don’t want you to stop.” Gerard said quietly, feeling himself blush deeper, “I just… I don’t know…”  
Gerard had never been so frustrated and confused. Frank was right. They didn’t have much time… And he’d wanted Frank forever, but he still felt so fucking uneasy about everything.  
“How can I make you more comfortable?” Frank asked softly, sliding off of Gerard and curling up beside him.  
“Just… I don’t know… go slower?” Gerard mumbled, feeling pathetic.  
“Okay. I can do that. Just remember I’m not going to hurt you. I’d never…” Frank trailed off, wrapping an arm around Gerard’s middle and pressing a kiss to his cheek.  
“I know.” Gerard nodded, turning onto his side to face Frank.  
He leaned in and kissed Frank experimentally. He felt like an inexperienced nerd for demanding that they go slow. Frank’s dreamy rockstar California boys with tattoo guns probably didn’t need to go slow. He just couldn’t believe Frank was really right there, kissing him back. He let the kiss unfold naturally, weaving his fingers into Frank’s hair to pull him closer and parting his lips against Frank’s. Frank groaned softly against Gerard’s lips as Gerard slid his tongue against Frank’s. His breath was sweet and intoxicating, with a familiar undercurrents of cigarette smoke.  
“Can we get under the blankets?” Frank asked, “Your haunted basement has some cold spots.”  
“It’s not haunted.” Gerard grumbled, reaching over and pulling his comforter over them. Frank helped him adjust the garment over their shoulders and resumed kissing Gerard soft and sweet. He kind of wished they’d put on some music because he could hear the sound of their kissing too loudly in his head.  
Gerard felt Frank’s hand slowly slide down his side and come to rest on his hip. He was painfully aware of how close to the opening of his jeans Frank’s hand was getting. His skin buzzed with the notion of Frank _touching him._ It took him by surprise when Frank’s hand slid the other way and gently cupped his ass.  
“Is this okay?” Frank asked softly against Gerard’s lips.  
“Uh huh.” Gerard breathed weakly.  
“Good.” Frank whispered, giving his ass a gentle squeeze.  
Frank shifted closer so that their hips were pressed together. The position didn’t allow for Gerard to grind against Frank the way he wanted to. The thought alone had him turned on and panting into Frank’s mouth. Frank eventually slid his hand up under the back of Gerard’s shirt and ran his fingers over Gerard’s bare back. He gently dragged his nails over Gerard’s skin. Gerard felt himself shudder in anticipation.  
“Shit, I’m sorry. Is this okay?” Frank asked nervously. His hand froze where it was.  
“Yeah.” Gerard reassured, “It feels... nice...”  
He wanted Frank’s hands all over him. He tried to wordlessly suggest his desire to be touched all over by pulling his sweatshirt up over his head. He ungracefully found himself tangled in the fabric. Frank chuckled as he helped Gerard get it off the rest of the way. His t-shirt had ridden up over his middle in the process and he felt over-exposed. His skin was cold against the sheets. He forgot how to be self-conscious entirely when Frank’s warm skin pressed against his.  
Soon the slow, sweet kissing wasn’t enough for Gerard. He needed friction. He needed that initial urgency Frank had presented him with.  
“Um, Frank?” He asked, so quietly he could barely hear himself.  
“Mmmm?” Frank hummed lazily in between kisses.  
“I’m sorry for uh, panicking before… but actually I kind of liked when you were, um... on top.” Gerard mumbled.  
Frank smiled against Gerard’s lips and slid back on top of him, dishelving the blankets in the process. He pulled the comforter over their heads, shrouding them in darkness. For whatever reason, the darkness made Gerard feel safer, and more sure of himself. He slid his hand over Frank’s open jeans and palmed at his hard-on through his boxers. Frank dragged his teeth over Gerard’s neck gently to suppress a moan, which was maybe the hottest thing in the fucking world. Gerard found himself bucking up against Frank.  
“Oh _fuck._ ” Frank hissed.  
Gerard slid his hand under the waistband of Frank’s boxers. The angle was awkward, but he gave his cock a few eager strokes as he tried to feel out an appropriate rhythm. Frank shoved his tongue in Gerard’s mouth and groaned. Gerard could feel the vibrations against his lips.  
He cursed himself for not making a move on Frank sooner. They could’ve been doing this for so long and instead Gerard had just skirted around his feelings for Frank. There was nothing he could do about it, he supposed, but Frank was there and real and moaning into his mouth.  
“Mmmm, can I suck you off?” Frank purred against Gerard’s ear.  
It wasn’t the sexiest response, but Gerard found himself nodding furiously. He realized Frank wouldn’t even necessarily be able to see the motion in the dark.  
“Is that a… yes?” Frank asked softly.  
“Yes.” Gerard whispered hoarsely.  
It was getting hot under the blankets. Gerard could feel his skin start to slick with sweat.  
Frank slithered his way down Gerard’s body, pressing thoughtful kisses against his skin as he went. He palmed at Gerard through his jeans and it shouldn’t have felt so fucking good, but Gerard had a hard time not letting out an embarrassingly loud moan. He covered his mouth with his palm to muffle the sounds he was making.  
Frank tugged the hem of Gerard’s boxers down and continued pressing agonizingly sweet kisses along his hip bones. Gerard was fucking writhing underneath Frank by the time he gave Gerard’s dick a few practiced strokes, licking a stripe up the underside and shoving the whole thing into his mouth. He couldn’t tell if Frank had done this before or if he was just naturally gifted in the art. As much as he would’ve liked to imagine Frank hadn’t done it before, he decided he was better off not knowing. It was hard to hold thoughts in his head with the way Frank was swirling his tongue around, anyways.  
Gerard could sort of make out the silhouette of Frank’s head bobbing up and down in the dim under the blankets. His hand didn’t stay on his mouth for long. It quickly ended up tangled in Frank’s hair. He tried his hardest not to just fucking fuck his best friend’s face, but if was hard not to, given the way Frank seemed to be able to take it. He tried desperately not to be too loud, even though he knew no one was home. He silently mouthed Frank’s name over and over, just like he’d done when he was all alone on the same bed in the same position dozens of times. Frank hummed encouragingly around his cock.  
Eventually, Frank pulled off with a satisfying pop. Gerard was so close he could barely keep himself together. He let out a low groan as Frank quickly slid his hand into place, jacking him off hot and heavy.  
Gerard came so hard his vision blacked out. He was faintly aware of his own warm, sticky substance spilling all over himself. Frank continued to plant his encouraging, sweet kisses down Gerard’s thigh long after he’d stopped touching Gerard.  
There was no way in hell he was going to leave Frank hanging. As soon as Frank made his way back up and folded the blankets back, Gerard kissed him hard. He was slippery with sweat and spit and maybe even a little of Gerard’s come.  
Frank had to be tired of kissing him. Gerard’s lips were starting to feel a little abused, so he couldn’t imagine what Frank’s must’ve felt like. He eased off of his mouth and went for Frank’s neck, sucking and biting until Frank was gasping.  
“If you give me a fucking hickey, Gerard, I swear to god.” Frank laughed hoarsely.  
“Not that I’m not proud of this I just… told my parents I was going to see you so they’ll think I was lying or that I-”  
Gerard cut Frank off by wrapping his hand around Frank’s dick and giving it a playful squeeze. He didn’t want to talk about their fucking parents.  
“That I was doing _this_ … with you.” Frank moaned, finishing his thought. He buried his face against Gerard’s chest to stifle his moans.  
Gerard was going to have to find some way to get them completely alone so they wouldn’t have to be so nervous about keeping quiet. He wanted to _hear_ Frank.  
Frank came much quicker than Gerard had. He made an adorably embarrassing guttural sound as he came all over Gerard’s hand.  
They laid there for awhile, panting in each others arms, until they both felt too gross. The basement had a small bathroom, which they tiptoed into and helped to clean each other up. Gerard had thought about fucking Frank a thousand times -he even knew what sleeping next to Frank was like- but somehow he’d never thought about post-coital, half-naked kissing against the sink in the basement bathroom. Or Frank getting revenge on Gerard for the hickey by giving Gerard a bigger hickey. Or Frank putting on Gerard’s clothes so that they could go upstairs and make a snack without anyone coming home and seeing them in an obvious state of post-fuck bliss.  
When they were done eating, they headed back to the basement to curl up in Gerard’s bed in their underwear.  
“Gerard, can I ask you something?” Frank asked dreamily, nuzzling against the pillow.  
The open-endedness of the question made Gerard’s heart thud painfully.  
“Uh, yeah.” Gerard nodded, pulling Frank closer.  
“Can we… take a nap?” Frank asked, “I mean… I don’t want to waste our time together, but taking a nap with you just sounds really nice...”  
Gerard had almost forgotten that Frank would have to leave him at some point. He probably had to go to South Jersey for the stupid holiday. Gerard almost wanted to ask if he could go with, even though he knew his parents would never allow it.  
“Yeah. Of course,” Gerard said, “Whatever you want, Frankie.”  
“Cool...” Frank sighed.  
He massaged small, soft circles into Gerard’s arm with his fingerprints until they fell asleep.  
~  
  
Gerard awoke with a start long after it was dark outside. He could hear footsteps upstairs which meant that someone was home. The door was still locked, so Gerard wasn’t worried about anyone bothering them.  
Frank stretched his limbs and nuzzled closer to Gerard in his sleep, which only seemed to make Gerard sad…. and _honestly,_ a little angry, too.  
Who the fuck did Frank think he was? He couldn’t just come home and show Gerard everything he was missing and then just fucking leave again. It wasn’t fair.  
At the same time, it wasn’t fair for Gerard to beg him to stay.  
Their reality was too fucked up. They were supposed to be together. Why didn’t Frank realize that? Why didn’t he _**care**_ about that?  
Eventually Frank stirred, sitting up quickly and looking around the dark room like he’d forgotten where he was.  
“Shit, what time is it?” He asked hoarsely.  
“Almost 8…” Gerard offered morosely, staring at the red numbers on the clock on his desk.  
“Shit.” Frank breathed.  
“Let me guess, you got somewhere to be?” Gerard asked.  
“Yeah… my dad’s supposed to pick me up from my mom’s place in like, an hour.” Frank said, running a hand through his hair.  
“Can I give you a ride there?” Gerard asked hopefully.  
“Gerard, I-” Frank started. He leaned in and pressed his lips against Gerard’s. Or, tried to. In the darkness, he captured the corner of Gerard’s mouth in a sloppy, dazed kiss.  
“I want to take you with me everywhere.” Frank said sadly.  
“It could’ve been like that, y’know?” Gerard offered bitterly.  
“No… it couldn’t have.” Frank argued softly, “And I think you know that.”  
It was sort of awkward then. Gerard turned on the lamp on his bedside table and sat there in silence as Frank slid back into his own clothes.  
“Can I keep your sweatshirt?” Frank asked, hugging the garment close his face, “I don’t have anything that smells like you…”  
“Of course.” Gerard said, trying to sound genuine.  
  
Gerard took the long way to Frank’s mom’s house, at Frank’s request. It was something about Frank wanting to see the neighborhood through Gerard’s headlights. Gerard couldn’t complain. To him, it was just an excuse to spend a little more time with Frank.  
They listened to some mixtape they’d made years ago in silence.  
Eventually Gerard was pulling the car up to the Iero residence. He stared straight ahead, with his hands on the wheel.  
“I’m working on this album…” Frank said, “I’m going to send you a copy when it’s done… And I really need you to listen to it.”  
“I will.” he breathed. He didn't know why why Frank would rub something like that in his face then, after they'd had such a nice time together. He didn’t trust himself to look at Frank. He couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t start crying.  
“Gerard, _look at me._ ” Frank begged, sliding a hand onto Gerard’s thigh.  
Against better judgement, he looked over. Frank was staring over at him with Gerard’s sweatshirt in his arms.  
“I’ve been… avoiding asking you this for hours.” Frank admitted, shooting Gerard a lopsided smile, “But, um, do you want to be… _mine?_ ”  
 _“Yours?”_ Gerard asked, letting the word roll around on his tongue, “I mean… _I don’t think so?”_  
Frank looked like he’d been slapped.  
“I just thought… ” He lamented, “I thought you wanted me to come back and make you mine?”  
“If we do that… I’ll just end up resenting you.” Gerard said, feeling his voice waver. “I know it sucks, but I’m just trying to be honest with you about this.”  
Frank bit his lip and nodded, staring down at the sweatshirt in his lap.  
“I mean, I don’t want to see anyone else.” Gerard continued, “I can’t see myself with anyone else… But I can’t ask that of you. There will be time for _us_ later… or maybe there won’t be? I don’t know, Frank.”  
“But I don’t want to see anyone else either.” Frank protested. “We should be together, Gerard.”  
“We can… _try it._ ” Gerard said softly, “But I just… if it’s going to be like, four perfect days a year, with you gone the rest… I don’t want that. If I’m going to be yours, I want to actually be yours, you know?”  
“That’s fair.” Frank said sadly.  
They were quiet for a moment.  
“But I think we should try.” Frank added. “I don’t want to look back on this and regret not trying.”  
“Why are you so freaked out about regret?” Gerard asked.  
“I guess I just have a lot of regret right now...” Frank mused, “Mostly I’m just mad at myself for taking so long to realize I wanted… _this._ ” he crawled across the front seat and pressed his lips to Gerard’s.  
It wasn’t the ideal setting for a goodbye kiss. Gerard had started to cry by then and the space between Gerard and the wheel was cramped, at best.  
Then again, nothing about their situation was ideal.  
“I’m just glad you realized it at all…” Gerard mumbled.  
“Me too.” Frank whispered.


End file.
